The fog clung thick between the trees, muffling the city's distant hum until only the faint rustle of leaves and her heartbeat remained.

Adanna stood rooted where the grass dampened her boots, her breath sharp in her throat. The stranger was there-no dream, no drunken haze this time. His pale hair gleamed faintly in the twilight mist, his storm-grey eyes fixed on her as though he had been expecting her.

Her fingers tightened on the edges of her shawl. She should have run. Instinct screamed at her to turn back toward the streets, toward people, toward safety. But her body refused to obey. Something about him-about the stillness that wrapped around his tall frame-held her fast.

"You," she whispered, her voice brittle, breaking the silence.

The man stepped forward, slow, measured, his boots sinking softly into the damp earth. "You followed the whispers." His voice was deep, quiet, carrying an edge of roughness that made the hairs along her arms rise.

Adanna blinked, confusion flickering across her face. "What do you mean?"

"The Crescent Moon," he said, his gaze never wavering. "You wouldn't be here if you hadn't heard."

Her stomach twisted. So it wasn't just rumor-he knew. Which meant he was part of it, this sanctuary pack she had clung to in fragile hope.

Adanna swallowed, willing her voice steady. "Are you with them?"

A beat of silence. His jaw tightened before he answered. "I was."

The words struck oddly, past and present colliding. Was. Not am.

She shifted her weight, unease prickling her skin. "Then what are you doing out here, watching me?"

His lips curved-not in amusement, but something darker. "Making sure you survive long enough to decide if you belong."

It wasn't comfort, not really. The way he said it, low and deliberate, sent a chill through her even as heat coiled low in her chest.

Adanna squared her shoulders, trying to muster what dignity she had left. "I don't need a guard dog. I came here because-because I have nowhere else." Her voice cracked, betraying more than she intended.

His eyes softened-barely, like a ripple across still water. "Then you're already halfway to Crescent Moon."

He moved again, circling slightly, as though testing the air between them. She tracked his every step, pulse hammering. "You still haven't told me your name."

"Leander." He stopped, the sound of it hanging in the mist between them. "And yours?"

She hesitated. Trust was dangerous, she'd learned that much. But something about his stare-unyielding yet not cruel-pulled the truth from her lips. "Adanna."

The syllables seemed to mean something to him. He repeated her name once, low, like a secret.

For a long moment, silence pressed in again. She should have turned, should have demanded answers, should have run. Instead, she found herself asking, quietly, "If you were part of Crescent Moon once... why aren't you now?"

Leander's expression shifted, shadow flickering in his eyes. "Because not every exile is welcome back."

Adanna's chest tightened. She knew rejection, knew the sting of being cast aside. But there was something heavier in his voice-an old wound carried too long. She opened her mouth to ask more, but a sound broke the moment: the snap of a branch deeper in the fog.

Leander's head whipped toward it instantly, his entire body taut, alert in a way no ordinary man could be.

Adanna froze, fear clawing up her spine. "What was-"

"Stay behind me," he cut in, his tone brooking no argument.

And for reasons she didn't understand, she obeyed.

Adanna's heart thumped painfully in her chest as she moved closer to him, her boots crunching against the damp earth. She hated herself for listening, hated how quickly her body responded to his command, but fear made obedience easier than pride.

The sound came again-closer this time. A low shuffle, like feet dragging over wet leaves.

Leander's shoulders squared. She could see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he braced himself. It was the stance of a man who expected trouble, who had lived enough of it to never let his guard drop.

A growl rumbled low in his throat, not human, not natural. Adanna's stomach clenched as the sound rippled through the fog.

And then, out of the mist, figures emerged.

Two men. Rough, unshaven, their clothes torn and filthy. Rogues. She knew the look, the scent that clung to them-feral, desperate, unbound by pack law. They grinned when they saw her, their eyes sliding over her like she was nothing but prey.

"Well, well," one drawled, voice thick with mockery. "What's this? A lost little lamb?"

The other laughed, a hollow, ugly sound. "And look at that-guarded by the white wolf himself. Didn't think you'd crawl back this far, Leander."

Adanna stiffened, the words sinking in. White wolf.

Her gaze darted to Leander. He didn't flinch at the insult. If anything, his jaw set tighter, his presence radiating authority even without a word.

"You've had your warning," Leander said evenly, his voice low and commanding. "Turn back."

The rogues only smirked, stepping closer. "Two on one," the first sneered. "Not much of a fight for the great exile, is it?"

Adanna's breath caught. They weren't backing down. And she-she had no wolf, no strength, no way to fight. She was useless, again.

Her hands trembled at her sides. She hated it. Hated feeling like dead weight.

But Leander didn't move back. Didn't hesitate. He shifted slightly, placing himself between her and the rogues, his presence a shield.

The first man lunged.

It happened too fast for her to follow-Leander's hand snapping up, catching the rogue mid-strike, his body twisting with lethal precision. A sickening crack rang out as the man hit the ground.

The second rogue cursed and rushed in. Adanna stumbled back, panic clawing at her chest, but Leander was already moving. His fist connected with the rogue's jaw, sending him sprawling into the mud.

Both men groaned, struggling, but the fight was already over. Leander hadn't even broken a sweat.

Adanna stared, wide-eyed, her breath ragged. She'd seen warriors fight before, seen dominance displayed at Alpha gatherings. But this-this was different. There was no pomp, no performance. Just cold efficiency.

Leander turned, his storm-grey eyes locking on her. For a moment, neither spoke.

Then he stepped closer, his voice rough but steady. "You don't walk into Heath territory without expecting wolves to find you. Crescent Moon isn't like Scarlet Moon. They protect what's theirs."

The names hit her like strikes. Scarlet Moon. Crescent Moon. Packs and politics, wars and betrayals. She was too tired to untangle it, too raw to question why his name made the rogues spit venom.

All she knew was that when danger closed in, he stood in front of her.

She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to work. "You... you could've let them take me."

Leander's expression didn't shift, but his answer was immediate. "I don't leave people to the wolves."

A laugh nearly escaped her, bitter and sharp. "Ironic."

He didn't argue. Just looked at her, long and heavy, as though he saw through her words to the ache beneath.

The rogues scrambled to their feet, retreating into the fog with curses thrown over their shoulders. Leander didn't chase them. He stood still until the forest swallowed them whole, until silence fell again.

Only then did Adanna realize how close she stood to him, her breath mingling with his in the cold air.

She pulled back sharply, heat rushing to her cheeks. "So... what now? Do I just wander until Crescent Moon finds me? Or do you drag me there yourself?"

His eyes lingered on her, unreadable. "You won't make it alone."

Something inside her twisted. The words were harsh, but not cruel. A simple fact. And deep down, she knew he was right.

"I don't need saving," she said, her voice shaking despite herself.

"Good," Leander replied, the faintest edge of something like amusement flickering in his tone. "Because

Crescent Moon doesn't take in people who want saving. They take in those who fight to survive."

Adanna's lips parted, a retort dying in her throat. She didn't know whether to hate him or cling to the thread of truth in his words.

Leander turned slightly, glancing deeper into the fog, then back to her. "If you're coming, stay close."

And without waiting for her answer, he started walking into the trees.

Adanna hesitated, her heart warring with her pride.

But then she stepped after him.

One step. Then another.

Not because she trusted him. Not yet.

But because, for the first time since Hyde Park, she wasn't walking into the dark alone.

The fog thinned until lantern light cut through, warm halos swinging against the branches. Adanna slowed when she saw the settlement-wooden lodges tucked close, smoke curling, children running across the dirt path like it was the safest place in the world.

Her throat went tight. She had never seen a pack that looked like this.

Behind her, someone whispered, "Scarlet Moon."

Another muttered, "She doesn't belong here."

Adanna lowered her gaze, wishing the ground would swallow her.

"Head up," Leander muttered without turning.

Her eyes snapped to his back. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Then stop looking like prey."

She bit the inside of her cheek, but she lifted her chin anyway.

They stopped in front of a longhouse, wood beams carved with glowing runes. The door opened, and a man stepped out-broad, dark-haired, silver streak at his temple. His presence hit her chest like a blow.

Leander spoke first. "Theron."

The man's sharp eyes moved from Leander to Adanna. "You return with a Scarlet Moon stray?"

Adanna bristled. "I'm not a stray."

Theron's brow lifted slightly. "Then what are you?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She didn't have an answer.

Before the silence could crush her, a woman stepped up beside Theron. Auburn braid, soft smile, steady eyes. "You'll scare her off if you keep staring like that."

Theron didn't look away. "Maybe she should be scared."

The woman touched his arm lightly. "Enough. Let her breathe." Then, to Adanna, "I'm Imogen. Welcome, even if it doesn't feel like it."

Adanna's lips parted. "I-thank you." Her voice sounded too small.

Theron folded his arms. "Why is she here, Leander?"

Leander's voice was calm, flat. "She needs Crescent Moon's protection."

"Does she?" Theron's gaze cut sharp again.

Adanna's pulse kicked. "I didn't ask for-"

"Yes, you did," Leander interrupted. His eyes flicked to hers for just a second, enough to shut her up.

Imogen stepped in. "Her name?"

Adanna cleared her throat. "Adanna."

Imogen nodded. "Pretty. Where are you from, Adanna?"

Adanna hesitated. "Scarlet Moon. But I'm not-"

Whispers erupted behind her. A couple of wolves had gathered near the doorway, muttering.

"Scarlet Moon trash."

"Why bring her here?"

Theron's voice cut through the noise. "Silence."

The room went still.

His eyes pinned her again. "Scarlet Moon rejects don't just wander into Hampstead Heath. What happened?"

Adanna's mouth went dry. She forced the words out. "My Alpha rejected me. My wolf is... gone." She swallowed. "I've got nowhere else."

Imogen's expression softened, but Theron's jaw tightened.

"Scarlet Moon's filth isn't our burden," someone muttered near the door.

Adanna's fists curled. "I didn't ask to be born there. I didn't ask for any of this." Her voice cracked, but she didn't look down.

Leander finally spoke again, firm, final. "She stays."

Theron's eyes narrowed. "You don't decide who stays."

"I decide who deserves a chance," Leander shot back.

A heavy silence stretched between them, sharp enough to slice skin.

Finally, Imogen stepped forward, placing herself between the two men. "Enough. The Council will hear her story. Tonight."

Theron let out a low growl in his throat, then turned back toward the longhouse. "Fine. But one wrong move from her-one-and she's out."

His words hung in the air, thick as smoke.

Imogen gave Adanna a small smile, softer than anything she deserved. "Come inside. Warm yourself. It's a long road from rejection to belonging."

Adanna's legs shook, but she followed them into the longhouse anyway.

************************************

The longhouse smelled of smoke and herbs. Wolves lined the benches, their eyes tracking every move Adanna made.

Imogen's voice broke the silence. "Council's here. Let's hear her story."

A man with graying hair leaned forward, sharp eyes narrowing. "She's Scarlet Moon."

Adanna's stomach dropped. "I was. Not anymore."

"Blood doesn't wash off that easy," another scoffed.

Leander's voice cut through. "She came here with nothing. That should be enough proof she's not Scarlet Moon anymore."

Theron sat at the head table, arms crossed. "Proof? Or bait? Maybe she's here to drag Crescent Moon into war."

Adanna's temper snapped. "Do I look like bait to you? I've got no wolf, no pack, no family. What exactly do you think I'm bringing-besides the stench of rejection?"

A murmur rippled through the benches.

The older man spoke again, voice cool. "If your Alpha cast you out, why come here? Why not disappear like the rest of the cursed?"

Adanna met his eyes. "Because I heard you don't turn people away."

Silence. Then a scoff from the far bench. "Depends on the people."

Imogen leaned forward, her voice calm. "Tell us what happened."

Adanna swallowed hard. "At the gathering, I was named Alexander's mate. He rejected me in front of everyone. Called me nothing. My wolf... she broke." Her voice cracked, but she pushed on. "I left that night. Haven't slept since."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then a woman near the back whispered, "That's why her scent feels hollow."

Another muttered, "She's dangerous without a wolf."

Adanna flinched. "I didn't choose this."

Theron's gaze hardened. "A wolf without a wolf. That's a weakness. Weakness draws blood."

Leander leaned forward, voice low. "Weakness can be turned into strength. If you know how."

Theron's eyes narrowed. "And you're volunteering to teach her?"

Leander didn't blink. "Yes."

Whispers flared again-some shocked, some angry.

Imogen raised her hand. "Enough. This isn't trial by gossip. We give her a place for now. Watch her. If she proves herself, she stays."

A pause stretched. Then Theron growled, "One chance. Nothing more."

Imogen looked at Adanna. "Do you understand?"

Adanna nodded, though her throat burned. "Yes. One chance."

Leander finally looked at her, steady, unreadable. "Don't waste it."

Adanna sat hunched on the rough bench outside the training grounds, her shawl pulled around her like armor. Wolves stretched and sparred around the yard, their laughter carrying on the cold morning air. Every grunt, every crack of fists against dummies reminded her she didn't belong.

Imogen plopped down beside her, chewing something that smelled vaguely like mint leaves. She leaned back, eyes squinting at the grey sky.

"You look like shit," Imogen said cheerfully.

Adanna groaned. "Thanks. That's exactly the pep talk I needed."

"No, seriously. Did you sleep at all?"

"Not really." Adanna rubbed her face. "Every time I shut my eyes, I heard that guy-Theron?-calling me weak. Over and over."

Imogen spat her mint stalk onto the dirt. "Theron calls everyone weak. He called me a 'lame wolf with an attitude problem' once."

Adanna raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And I told him his beard looked like a wet squirrel."

Adanna couldn't help the laugh that slipped out.

"See?" Imogen nudged her. "Don't let his words stick. You're here now. That's what matters."

Adanna's smile faded. "Being here doesn't mean I'll stay. You heard the council. One mistake and I'm out."

Before Imogen could answer, a mocking voice carried across the yard.

"Hey, rogue!"

Adanna stiffened. Two young wolves stood by the training dummies, both smirking. The taller one was wiry, his arms covered in tattoos, and the other shorter, with a face too smug for his own good.

The tall one cupped his hands around his mouth. "You learn the rules yet? Number one: don't expect us to babysit broken wolves."

Imogen muttered under her breath, "Here we go."

Adanna stood slowly. Her pulse raced, but her voice came out steady. "I'm not broken."

The short one barked out a laugh. "No wolf? No fangs? That's like being a car without wheels. You'll just sit there and rust."

Adanna's jaw clenched. "Better no wheels than a head full of hot air."

Imogen choked back a laugh.

The tall one's eyes narrowed, and he took a threatening step forward. "Careful, rogue. I could break you before breakfast."

Adanna's throat tightened, but she forced herself not to step back.

"Then you'd answer to me," a calm, cold voice cut in.

The yard stilled.

Leander strode toward them, silver hair bright against the grey morning, his storm-grey eyes fixed on the two young wolves. His presence was enough to make the air shift.

"Out," he said simply.

The taller wolf bristled. "We were just-"

"I said out." Leander's voice was quiet, but it carried like thunder.

The pair grumbled but slunk off, muttering curses under their breath.

Adanna exhaled sharply, her shoulders sagging. "You didn't have to do that."

Leander's gaze lingered on her. "You're Crescent Moon now. I don't let anyone in my pack get cornered."

Adanna frowned. "I thought you weren't exactly pack."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes-pain, maybe? But it was gone too fast.

"Meet me here tomorrow. Dawn."

Adanna blinked. "Why?"

"Training."

Her laugh was short and bitter. "You want to train me? I don't even have a wolf."

"You said you're not broken." His tone was even, unreadable. "Prove it."

Imogen leaned close, whispering loud enough for Leander to hear. "Told you. Teeth."

Adanna shot her a look, but Imogen only grinned wider.

Leander turned and walked off, leaving no room for argument.

Adanna groaned, sinking back onto the bench. "What the hell did I just sign up for?"

Imogen smirked. "Oh, you're screwed. But at least it'll be entertaining."

The next morning, the training yard was empty except for Leander. He stood in the center, arms folded, watching her approach.

Adanna dragged her feet across the dirt. "I thought dawn meant... like, actual daylight. Not this."

"It's the best time," he said flatly. "Quiet. Focused."

"Focused on what? Getting humiliated?"

His lips twitched-almost a smile. "That depends on how fast you learn."

Adanna scowled. "You know, for someone who barely talks, you sure like giving orders."

Leander didn't respond. He tossed her a wooden staff. She fumbled to catch it, nearly smacking herself in the face.

"Seriously?" she muttered.

"Grip it tighter," he said. "Feet apart. Shoulders loose."

Adanna tried to mimic his stance, awkward and stiff.

He circled her, correcting her posture with a tap to her elbow, a nudge to her foot. Every touch sent a strange jolt through her chest.

"Better," he said. "Now swing."

She swung clumsily. The staff slipped from her sweaty palms and clattered to the ground.

Imogen's laugh echoed from the fence where she'd perched. "Smooth, very smooth."

Adanna glared. "You're not helping!"

Leander didn't move to pick up the staff. He just stared. "Again."

Adanna sighed, grabbing it off the ground. "Fine. But don't expect miracles."

The next swing was steadier. The next, even sharper. Soon her arms ached, sweat dripping down her back, but she kept going.

Leander finally raised a hand. "Enough."

Adanna dropped the staff, panting. "That... was hell."

"That was warm-up," he said.

She groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."

Imogen clapped sarcastically. "Don't worry, rogue. By next week, you'll only look half-dead."

Adanna shot her a weak middle finger before collapsing onto the bench.

Leander stood over her, his eyes unreadable. "You lasted longer than I thought."

Adanna blinked. "Was that... a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it," he said, turning away.

Imogen leaned down, whispering, "Translation: he doesn't hate you. Yet."

Adanna buried her face in her hands, groaning. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?

That night, Adanna sat in her small room, muscles sore, arms aching. But despite the pain, she caught herself smiling faintly.

For the first time in weeks, she didn't feel completely useless.

And for the first time in years, someone had looked at her-not with pity, not with disgust-but with the expectation that she could be more.

She didn't know whether to be grateful... or terrified.

************************************

The next morning, Adanna limped into the training yard. Every muscle screamed in protest. She barely slept-again.

Leander was already there, stretching like he'd been born out of stone and discipline. No sweat, no strain. Just calm.

"You're late," he said.

"It's five minutes," Adanna shot back, wincing as she bent to tie her boots.

"Five minutes can cost you your life."

"Or five minutes could mean coffee," she muttered.

His brows lifted. "Do you want coffee or survival?"

Adanna straightened. "Both. Preferably."

Imogen's laugh rang from the fence where she sat again. "Gods, you two are like an old married couple already."

"Shut up," Adanna and Leander snapped in unison.

Imogen grinned. "See? Married couple."

Leander ignored her and tossed Adanna a smaller staff. "Today, we test reaction time."

Adanna groaned. "Can't we test, like... sitting? I'd be amazing at that."

"No."

She raised the staff half-heartedly. "Fine. But if I pass out, you're carrying me."

Leander's eyes darkened with something unreadable. "You won't pass out."

He lunged.

Adanna yelped, barely lifting her staff in time. The force rattled through her arms, nearly knocking her over.

"Keep your balance," he barked.

"I'm trying!" She stumbled back, swinging wildly.

He struck again. Their staffs cracked together, and her wrists burned.

"Too stiff," he said. "You're fighting the staff instead of using it."

"Oh, well, forgive me for not being a staff master!"

"Less mouth, more focus."

Adanna scowled. "You're really bad at pep talks, you know that?"

He didn't answer, only pressed harder. Each strike forced her back until her heels hit the fence.

"Cornered," he said coldly. "Now what?"

Adanna's breath came hard. She looked left, right-no space. Her staff trembled.

"Think," he pushed. "What's your way out?"

"I... I don't know!"

"Yes, you do." His voice softened, barely. "Stop thinking about what you can't do. Use what you can."

His words stung because they made sense. Her grip tightened. With a sharp yell, she twisted, ducking under his staff, and jabbed the end of hers into his ribs.

The strike landed.

Leander froze. His storm-grey eyes flicked down, then back up. For a breathless second, something unreadable flashed between them.

Adanna's mouth fell open. "Did I-did I actually hit you?"

Imogen clapped so loud it startled them both. "Hell yes, rogue! I think you just made the great Leander grunt."

Leander straightened, brushing dirt off his shirt. His face was unreadable, but his voice was low. "Not bad."

Adanna blinked. "Wait-was that another compliment?"

He ignored her, turning away.

Imogen cackled. "Oh, he's blushing."

"I am not." His voice was sharper than usual, and he stalked off toward the weapon rack.

Adanna leaned on her staff, panting, still stunned. "I actually hit him..."

Imogen slid off the fence, grinning. "Yep. You've officially survived round two. And trust me, not many can say that."

Adanna let out a shaky laugh, part pride, part disbelief.

For the first time since Hyde Park, she felt a flicker of something that wasn't anger or despair. It was small, fragile... but it was there.

Later that evening, Adanna sat on the back steps of the safehouse, the cool air easing her sore arms. Imogen plopped beside her with a loaf of bread and tore it in half.

"You know," Imogen said around a mouthful, "I've never seen Leander look at anyone like that."

Adanna frowned. "Like what?"

"Like you're not a burden. Like you're... worth the effort."

Adanna shifted uncomfortably. "He doesn't even like me."

Imogen snorted. "Leander doesn't like anyone. Trust me. That man has the emotional range of a rock. But he respects you. That's rarer."

Adanna tore at the bread, chewing slowly. "Respect doesn't change the fact that I'm still wolf-less."

Imogen's expression softened. "Maybe. Or maybe your wolf's just waiting for the right moment. You ever think of that?"

Adanna's throat tightened. "Waiting twenty years? That's one patient wolf."

Imogen nudged her shoulder. "Patience usually means power."

Adanna stared into the dark trees, heart heavy but a little less hollow.

The next morning, the pattern repeated. Training. Bruises. Banter. Leander's relentless orders, her stubborn retorts, Imogen's heckling.

But beneath it, something began to shift.

When Adanna stumbled, Leander caught her before she hit the ground. His hands were steady, firm, lingering a second too long.

When she landed a hit, his eyes lit-not with annoyance, but with something sharper. Something almost like pride.

And when she cursed him under her breath, she thought she saw the ghost of a smile.

By the end of the week, Adanna was exhausted but alive. She sat on the bench, sweat dripping, chest heaving. Leander stood across from her, arms folded, watching.

"You're improving," he said.

Adanna gave a tired laugh. "There it is. The legendary third compliment."

He raised a brow. "Don't push your luck."

Imogen shouted from the fence, "Adanna, write this down! Historic day-Leander admits someone else isn't completely useless!"

Adanna laughed until her ribs ached.

For the first time, laughter didn't feel foreign.

For the first time, the shadows around her weren't as heavy.

And though she'd never admit it aloud, she realized something terrifying:

She was starting to trust him.